


Risk Aware

by anemptymargin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Assault, Cutting, Fire, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: Taliesin has a fantasy and trusts few to make this happen. After careful negotiation of limits, Ivan indulges his darker desire.
Relationships: Ivan Van Norman/Taliesin Jaffe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Risk Aware

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for anyone (like me) into Dom!Ivan. Enjoy, darlings.
> 
> Yes, this is RPF and is properly tagged as such. If you're not into that sort of thing, you are by no means obligated to read this. Please be aware this is a work of utter fiction and fantasy at that, if that's not your thing then please be off without messaging me about your disappointment in how I choose to get my jollies.

The whip whistles and snaps, cutting the air and bringing Taliesin to his knees before he can even get a look at the room. It’s a new place to him, some studio out in the valley that Ivan knew about, but it doesn’t matter now. Now it’s the scene of his undoing.

It’s not much to look at in reality, bare cement floors with ageless paint and grease stains. A warehouse with bare wood panel walls and windows too high to see in from street level in a nameless Van Nuys neighborhood. By day it’s the sort of space that can become whatever the renter needs, a temporary place for art or dance or filming things that nobody would ever want to know were filmed there. A blank canvas that’s easily dressed up as a dungeon with a few choice pieces borrowed from  _ good friends _ .

He’s prepared, Taliesin thinks, for what’s about to happen. Calm, suggestable, and utterly ready to let go of the real world on the other side of the door for the few precious moments he can be in his own imagination. That’s what it is, really, his imagination and dark fantasy made as real as it can be. Pain, shame, and the depths of desperate desire.

*

Everything had been planned for weeks. “What exactly are we talking about here?” Ivan had asked over casual drinks in the sanctity of a rare empty eat-in kitchenette.

He’d answered honestly. “With Matt I’m mostly comfortable topping, sometimes Marisha…” He hesitated, making a sound somewhere between a sigh and moan as he considered just how to phrase what he was thinking. “Well, sometimes she can hit that sweet spot that makes me melt like butter, but she tends to back down a little more than she needs to.”

“I see.” Ivan had answered. “And you want someone who won’t back down?”

Taliesin blushed at the thought, not the self-conscious pinking that happens readily whether he likes it or not, but an honest to God rush of flustered goodness when Ivan’s voice dropped even the slightest with that hint of delicious dominance. “I want you to hurt me.” He admitted sheepishly. “I want to be pushed until I beg to stop.” For a long moment there had been no change in Ivan’s careful and contemplative expression . He was clearly considering it, and that was enough to make Taliesin’s pulse thrum faster still.

“How can I hurt you best?” Ivan asked simply, the words trickling off his tongue as though it were the most normal conversation in the world.

*

Taliesin gasps and closes his eyes as his knees hit the cement with an appreciable pop. The scents of leather and alcohol based accelerant hang in the air, and it’s more intoxicating than ever, practically dripping with promise. “You’re late.” Ivan’s voice sounds far away and is followed by the heavy thud of boots coming toward him. Then the whip snaps again and he feels the crack inches from his right shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. He doesn’t think he’s late, it doesn’t matter anymore. The game has started whether he’s ready for it or not. He’s so fucking ready. “Traffic-”

“No.” Ivan says firmly and this time the whip catches at the bunched fabric of Taliesin’s shirt and he answers it with an audible moan. So close… it’s so close. “No excuse.” Strong fingers grip Taliesin under the jaw unexpectedly, roughly squeezing until his mouth hangs uselessly open and leather clad fingers are pushed between his helpless lips. The taste of it is strong enough that at first Taliesin’s senses balk and he gags on what his brain initially reads as gasoline before realizing that it’s only the alcohol accelerant he’s been introduced to on more than one occasion.

“I don’t like excuses.” Ivan continues, slowly sliding his fingers along Taliesin’s tongue. “They’re pathetic.”

*

“I’m pretty hard to faze.” Taliesin swallowed hard after a long sip of whiskey. “The normal stuff is pretty good; whips, floggers, paddles, canes. But really, I just… I need it rough. Punching, pushing, kicking… force me. Kick my ass.”

Ivan chuckled, blushing a little pink himself. “And you think I could kick your ass?”

Answering with a chuckle of his own, Taliesin shrugged. “I think I’d let you. And when I’m good and squishy, I want the real pain to start. The good stuff.”

“Torture?” Ivan’s voice dropped to a low purr and Taliesin couldn’t help but notice the catty smile twitching across his lips.

*

Taliesin grunts around the thick leather fingers, the pungent taste and scent equally pleasant and awful. He can already feel his pulse rising, not really knowing exactly what’s going to come next but that it’s going to feel bad in the best possible way.

“But then again…” Ivan continues, his other hand threading bare fingers though Taliesin’s hair before gripping against his scalp and pulling back until his spit-slick fingers rub against Taliesin’s lips. “...You’re pretty fucking pathetic too, aren’t you?” He pushes then, putting his weight into forcing Taliesin’s head down.

Tal fights back, pushing against the strong arm with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m not.” He mutters, the grip in his hair pulling tighter until delicious pain tingles along his long-abused scalp.

Ivan snorts and lets go of his jaw before smacking him hard on the cheek with his spit-wet glove, the solid sound triggering a desperate keening moan. “Try again. I almost believed you.”

*

“Yes.” Taliesin breathed a little harder, letting out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “Please. Call me names, humiliation is good too.” He shifted in his seat, knowing full and well Ivan would read the movement as what it was: hiding the fact that he was already aroused just talking about it. “It’s all play, I know. You’re the person I know I can trust to make me hurt like this. I want to cry… I want to be afraid, even.”

“And then what? After you’re begging?” Ivan mirrored him, leaning to the opposite side and then crossing his legs casually at the knee.

It was almost harder for him than asking to be beaten and hurt, but he couldn’t really explain why. “Tie me down, hold me down maybe.” He looked down at the small table between them, unable to look the man in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be tight or elaborate, just enough to make me feel like I can’t win.”

“Not a problem. But, I get the impression that’s not the end of your fantasy here. I mean, we both know I’ve tied you up before… on camera, even.”

Taliesin shook his head. “Then, I want more.”

“Fire?” Ivan asked, that coy smile lingering. “Blades? Bare knuckles?”

Taliesin moaned into his cup, closing his eyes for a moment to center himself. “Yeah. That’s really good. I mean… my limits are pretty scant at this point… Nothing too gross, I guess? You can piss on me, if you want to, I mean, it can be pretty effective humiliation. But otherwise, toilet stuff’s not really my thing.”

“Look at me.” Ivan said, his voice far too calm for Taliesin’s state of arousal. “I need to know what’s off the table. I mean, we’ve talked about this sort of thing before but if you’re serious you know ‘no limits’ isn’t an option.”

*

“Not pathetic.” Taliesin manages to push his voice louder and attempts to pull out of Ivan’s grip, only making the tingling pain on his scalp all the more appreciable. Then Ivan slaps him again with that glove, his own saliva marking his cheek, and he strikes out.

Ivan’s ready for him, but the whip clatters off his shoulder and hits the floor when Tal lunges forward and attempts to take out his knees. Coming down on top of him instead of backward, Ivan’s weight falls across Taliesin’s back and knocks the wind out of him before he’s pinned against the floor. “So. Fucking. Pathetic.” Ivan growls, his voice dropping even deeper as he wraps one arm around Taliesin’s chest and delivers a hard punch to Taliesin’s side with each word. 

It’s those punches that really get Taliesin’s brain into the space he’s pushing for. If the whip crack had been a cue then a fist in his kidney is the opening chord of the song they’re writing. Ivan leans into him, letting all of his weight rest on Taliesin’s strong back before grabbing him by the hair even harder than before. He pushes again and Taliesin whimpers with the spear of pain that comes as his face is slammed into the floor. “Yellow…” He moans, pushing back but unable to move Ivan off him. “Don’t stop.”

*

It took a lot of consideration, a lot of digging through things that were hot but impractical or hot in theory but probably not so great in practice. In the end, Taliesin asked three things. “No visible marks. Face, forearms, you know… I wear a lot of scarves and stuff but probably my neck too. I don’t want people to think I was assaulted.”

“But you definitely want me to assault you?”

“Oh god yes. Please.” Taliesin groaned, wishing he had another drink to at least pretend he was blushing from the alcohol and not the fact that he was planning on jerking off in his car before going home.

“What else?” Ivan’s throat bobbed with an obvious dry swallow and Taliesin wondered if he wasn’t in a similarly dire arousal situation. He could read people pretty well, but Ivan was pretty good at keeping things buttoned up tight when he wanted to.

“Right. Uh. Gross stuff. Puke, shit, like I said it’s sometimes kinda hot to go wet, but I’m not married to the idea.”

“Play it by ear?”

“I trust you.” Taliesin laughed and bit his lower lip to hold back an incomplete thought involving ear play. “Cutting… just a little bit. I like it, but I scar pretty easy and you know…”

“Kind of hard to explain it later on?” Ivan nodded. “That’s pretty fair. In general I don’t like to break skin without a lot of communication. I feel like this is a good start.”

“I don’t like specific or novel safewords per se…” Tal shrugged. “I mean, the idea is great but in the heat of the moment I’ll probably forget. Traffic lights tend to work good. Ball drop, even better.”

Nodding along, Ivan took it all in. “Yellow to slow down or change direction?”

“Red to full stop, break character and check in. If I’m red lighting it’s probably not good.”

“I know a safe, clean place. There’ll be someone I can trust to stand by with first aid and fire suppression.”

Taliesin grinned wide. “And you wonder why I specifically wanted you?”

“Here I thought it was all about the sex we keep suggesting but never get around to having.”

“It’s a little bit about the sex.” Taliesin whispered, lowering his gaze again. “I mean… if you’re feeling like you want to, I’m not saying no.” He paused and then added; “Even if I struggle a bit, you have my permission to use my body as you please.”

Ivan shifted more obviously then and Taliesin had full confirmation of suspicion. “I get the distinct impression that you’re saying ‘feel free’ when you really mean ‘Please sir, fuck me blind’.”

“I wasn’t just going to admit it, you know… but… it’s okay to get a bit… I don’t know…”

“You can say it.” Ivan murmured, coaxing it out of him. “We’re alone here. No judgement.”

“You could, you know…” Taliesin’s voice shrunk, a mere shade of his usual confident tone, against the innate fear of admitting certain kinks. “I mean, not  _ really _ but in this fantasy if you feel up to it you could get a bit rapey.”

At that, Ivan laughed. Then, he explained; “Sorry, it’s not funny. Just… a few minutes ago you outright said I could piss on you and  _ that _ is where your line is? You realize there’s probably hundreds of thousands of people into that?”

“I know! I know…” Taliesin blushed furiously, doing his best to look anywhere but Ivan’s cheery pink cheeks. “It’s just that it’s kind of a touchy thing, and obviously in  _ reality _ -”

Ivan cut him off. “No, no. There’s a huge difference between reality and a carefully controlled fantasy where consenting adults are involved. Look, Tal…” He trailed off as he leaned in, intimately closing the casual distance between them. “What I’m getting is that you sometimes enjoy being in a safe environment where you aren’t just  _ not in control _ but are actively victimized.”

“Gah, when you say it that sounds awful… I mean, who wants that?” Taliesin flinched inwardly, lowering his head.

“I’ve wanted it. A lot of people have, like a lot.” Ivan’s deep tone took an intent turn, drawing Taliesin to look him in the eye again. “I mean, if you want to go into the psychology of it, you know I will.”

“I think we need more drinks for that.”

*

Pulling back just a little, Ivan shifts his weight to smack his hips against Taliesin’s soft ass - digging there and letting him feel their proximity. “Just admit it.” Ivan growls, not pushing his face harder into the cement but leaving it pressed there as he jolts the man’s body with another hip thrust. “Pathetic. Worthless. Impotent?”

It’s the upward lilt of Ivan’s voice that really digs it in and Taliesin pushes back the impending abrasion on his cheek to wiggle free of the offending hand enough to twist and spit in Ivan’s face before having his back and shoulders slammed against the floor - the push just strong enough to bring a flash of stars when his skull smacks the concrete. It’s worth it for the look on Ivan’s face as a thick wad of spit drips off his chin.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that.” What had been an almost playful growl before takes on a note that strikes very real in Taliesin’s brain. For a second, he’s not sure Ivan is  _ playing _ anymore. “Spit on me again-” He slams Taliesin again, this time favoring his shoulder to not smack his head, as he reaches back. When the familiar flick-click sounds, Taliesin’s bleary eyes are drawn to a crude pocket knife.

Oh now, that’s interesting.

“I’ll cut your throat.”

Taliesin moans and manages a weak nod.

*

“So, anything new to add? Subtract?” Ivan whispered and Taliesin could only assume that on the other side of the line people with innocent ears were likely listening. He wasn’t so stifled, the place left entirely to him for the evening at least.

“Mmm. I’m really excited, actually.” He admitted, leaning back in his bed and playing over all the ideas they’d bounced. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“You assume I’m planning.” Ivan laughed and Taliesin smiled a little more sweetly than if he could be seen. He was planning, because of course he was. Safety was always big for him. He’d already started setting up the stations of equipment. A few carefully selected blades that would leave fine lines, kevlar flogger and whip ready to be dipped, extra padding on a wide bench that could easily support both of them, rope… probably too much rope. He’d even taken the liberty of asking Matt and Marisha to be safety monitor. Interestingly, Marisha had been the one to decline. “I don’t know if you’ve talked with your polycule…”

“They’re aware. I didn’t tell them who I picked to work me over, but you know… I know you’re into discretion for  _ very  _ good reasons.”

“Matt’s going to be our safety monitor.”

That was a bit of a shock. Taliesin knew, of course, with the kind of stuff they were playing with they would have to have a third party… but he hadn’t really expected Matt would be okay with seeing that sort of thing. “Are you sure?”

“We talked.”

“And you told him that it’s gonna get pretty brutal?” Taliesin bit at his lower lip. “I’m not vetoing, but I mean… he’s going to freak. Probably.”

“He’s also going to move like hell if he needs to. I mean, trust someone who loves you, right?” Ivan’s voice dropped to a soft murmur.

*

Ivan glances up slightly, just enough to catch Matt moving cat-like on bare feet closer to the center of the room and then wincing when Ivan slams Taliesin’s shoulder again, this time an audible dull thud heard as Taliesin’s heel comes up in a vain attempt to gain leverage. In response, Ivan knocks his knees apart and then braces one at the joint of his left hip with just enough weight to let him feel it without too much pain. “Good boy.” He murmurs to Taliesin before turning attention fully to the task. “Keep that mouth closed until I tell you how to use it.”

“Fuck you.” Taliesin growls back, shifting his weight and pushing back fruitlessly as his pulse races just a little higher.

“Fuck me?” Ivan laughs cruelly, moving to thrust the knife just under the edge of Taliesin’s ratty black t-shirt. “No, you’d like that too much.” With an easy tug up, the cotton stretches and then gives way under the pocket knife’s influence. He’d planned to get to cutting much later and hadn’t really factored in the difficulty of holding someone down and cutting a shirt open, so with another growl he tosses the blade aside hard enough that Taliesin can hear it skitter to a thudding stop against the wall. “I don’t need this. Probably pissed yourself already, didn’t you?” He grasps the cut edge, tugging the slash to a ragged rip that exposes Taliesin’s soft tummy all the way to his breastbone.

“Get off me.” Taliesin bucks again when hears the tear and briefly considers spitting again until Ivan’s fist catches him square in the gut. “Fuck!”

“Yeah. Fuck.” Ivan snarls, punching him again before shifting the knee holding down Taliesin’s thigh to instead press it hard against the tight crotch of Taliesin’s jeans. “Maybe you’ll stop saying that word after I bust your balls.”

It takes a second to even breathe. Taliesin can hear his heart slamming against his rib cage and it’s one more slug at his side that tips him fully into the fear response that he’s so rarely managed to tap into when knowing he’s really safe. Gasping, he cries out. “No! No no… don’t…” He whimpers, the first hitch of a sob in his wavering voice. “Please. Please just-”

“Say it.” Ivan growls and then slides the hand holding down Taliesin’s shoulder until it rests across his rapidly swallowing throat. “You worthless piece of shit, just admit that you’re  _ pathetic _ .”

*

“He’ll be good. Just… warn him, ahead of time.” Taliesin answered, understanding a little too well where Ivan was coming from. Yeah, Matt was a pretty good choice if he had to pick someone to save his ass in the event of a situation that would be a horror story to explain in the emergency room. “Like, some things you might say or do could be triggering for him, and I don’t want him to hurt because I’ve got bullshit baggage, you know?”

“Any particular vocabulary I should avoid?”

“For me? No. It’s all good, even the really shitty things to say. Just warn him ahead of time. He knows we’re cool no matter what happens in fiction.”

“You realize I won’t hold back?”

“I fucking hope not. The goal is to break me, remember? I’m basically a marshmallow, but please use all the tools at your disposal.”

*

Looking up again, Ivan catches Matt’s eyes and then gestures toward the pile of ropes with an angled turn of his chin. When Matt nods eagerly, tiptoeing that way to fetch it, Ivan closes his fingers around Taliesin’s throat, taking his attention entirely.

“You’re gonna tell me what I want to hear, you sick fuck.” He squeezes tighter only a few seconds later when Matt shoves a little rubber ball into Taliesin’s scrabbling hand. Taliesin gives it an experimental squeeze and then makes a croaking sound of understanding, the best he can manage in the moment. “Tell me you’re a useless  _ pathetic _ piece of shit.”

Drawing quick panicked breaths through his nose, Taliesin manages to nod without smacking his head on the floor again. The second Ivan’s hand opens he snarls his response. “Fuck you.”

“No.” Ivan calmly answers, taking his prompt to squeeze again. “I think we established you’d like that too much.” He loosens and tightens his grip again, allowing only a fraction of a true breath when Taliesin’s eyelids flutter. “Maybe  _ fuck you _ .” He chuckles, a sadistic grin twisting his lips. “If you give me what I want.”

“Never.” Taliesin croaks when allowed to breathe again, two fingers open around the ball but not yet dropping it. “Gonna havta-”

Ivan closes his fingers to a fist again, delivering a last punch to the gut before allowing Tal to catch his breath as best he can. It’s enough of a distraction to grab the length of rope Matt provides from near invisibility at his side and then collect Taliesin’s wrists to bind them tightly together. “You’re fun.” He chuckles again, looping the nylon rope over each wrist in quick and dirty cuff knots. “You want me to work for it?” He reaches back again to the other concealed knife carefully wrapped at his back. Sliding it out of the sterile plastic package, letting said package drop to the floor beside Taliesin’s head, he catches Tal’s attention by letting the dim overhead lighting catch a single extremely sharp scalpel.

Instinctually, Taliesin’s hips jolt only to feel Ivan holding him down, shifting his weight entirely to rest across his thick thighs. “What the-”

“Uh-uh. I didn’t say you could move.” Ivan lowers the blade, teasing it visibly just above Taliesin’s navel, not even letting it touch his skin. "Careful. Do that again and I might just have a new hole to fuck." Ivan feels Taliesin shiver under him and takes the liberty of letting the sharp point draw a tiny bead on the tender rise of Taliesin’s belly.

Taliesin whimpers then, a genuine and desperate sound as he is acutely aware of the pinprick of pain. "No… no…" He whispers, feeling the tickle of a single drop of blood rolling down his gut toward his strained zipper. Part of him knows full and well that this is  _ Ivan _ and he's safe, Ivan wouldn't hurt him despite the very real bruises he feels blossoming across his abdomen.

"Yes, yes…" Ivan answers wickedly, this time allowing the blade to skim across quivering flesh, leaving a fine pink scratch nearly two inches long below Taliesin’s belly button. "If you're not careful, that is. If you don't do as you're told."

For a second, Taliesin can't even breathe. He lets out a pained whine that flags his already obvious buy in. "It's ok man…" he gasps, red faced and staggered. "Don't have to get crazy here…"

Ivan turns the fine blade, purposefully pressing the dull edge against Tal's skin. "Crazy?" He murmurs, the corner of his lips twitching with another broad smirk. "I haven't even started to get crazy." Leveraging the benefit of having both hands to work with, Ivan lets go of Taliesin’s bound wrists and instead tugs gracelessly at the man's fly while once more flashing the blade where he can see it. "Don't be such a pussy, I've barely nicked you." He hesitates, and then adds; "For now."

Tal swallows back the lump in his throat, clearing it with a rattling breath as he watches the scalpel once more come down to meet skin. "I'm sorry." He whispers, an audible tremor in his voice.

"That's a start." Ivan hums under his breath, managing open the button and zip before attacking the fabric between them. He's far more focused on the actual danger in his other hand. When he touches the blade to flesh again, it's with clear intent. Obviously whatever he's tapping into is working, and he knows they're both open to walking the line. “You’ve got quite a lot to be sorry for, don’t you?” His hand steady, intent and practiced, he pushes the blade just enough to see the tiny trickle of blood before drawing it only half an inch.

Then, Taliesin wails. It’s not particularly painful, not like the pounding in the back of his head or the wonderful ache on his ribcage, but something about knowing that he’s being cut - of feeling that fresh trickle of his own blood - draws it out of him. His cock twitches, wetness staining the front of his boxers underneath Ivan’s knuckles as the sensation washes over him.

Part of him wants to continue dragging the blade, to carve a sweet little smile as Taliesin creams himself, but bare minimum it’s too risky when the other man’s hips roll and nearly lift him off. “Stop wiggling, asshole.” Ivan demands, lifting away the blade. “Did you just squirt in your shorts?” His long fingers grasp then, purposefully wrapping around the bulge underneath thick cotton and finding the rigid and pulsing shaft of Taliesin’s cock to give a hard squeeze. Taliesin whimpers and sobs out loud and Ivan realizes he’s actually crying.

“No…” Taliesin sobs, unable to swallow back the fresh wave of shame. Even if he had the mind at the moment - which he really doesn’t - he would feel deeply ashamed of his body for giving in so easily. “Shut up.”

With a fresh point to target, Ivan zeroes in on that interesting little tidbit. With a small cackle, he gives another rough squeeze around Tal’s cock to assure he’s still hard too. “Oh man… you can’t even control yourself, can you? Little hair trigger there? Been too long since a  _ real man _ put you in your place?”

With a loud sniffle, Taliesin forces his eyes tightly closed, tears rolling down his red cheeks and damn if he isn’t beautiful. “I said  _ shut up _ .” He whines.

Focusing, waiting until Taliesin’s too still to jostle the blade, Ivan once more presses it along a thick curve this time above and to the left - safe territory just in case. “That would mean a lot more if you didn’t just blow your load like a horny loser.” Barely drawing a bead with the tip, Ivan carefully adds a more visible red scratch and then pulls away - anticipating the twisting agony that follows.

Writhing, Taliesin’s fingers grasp around the rubber ball until his knuckles go white. The tears come freely, it’s so easy to just let himself go… be ashamed.  _ Beaten _ . “Not funny…” He’s barely audible, but Ivan can hear and if the small sound of Matt shifting toward the bench is any indication, he does too.

*

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ivan asked after showing Matt around the studio he’d booked. “I can ask someone else, it’s not a problem. I just wanted to give his paramours first dibs.”

Matt shook his head, trailing his fingers over the kevlar flogger and whip laid out on the table in preparation. “It should be me. I know he can take a lot… he  _ wants _ to take a lot, but I know that it should be someone he knows.”

“I won’t lie, it’s pretty intense. I mean, I’ve never really combined all of these elements before and I  _ want _ to, but you can’t really plan everything. Especially not the way he wants it to go down. It’s probably going to be pretty brutal. I’m not going to hold back.”

He nodded. “I know.” Matt sighed and tapped his fingers on the long side table seeing a pocket knife, a machete, and several wrapped new scalpels laid out beside the heavy equipment. “Are you going to, um… you know, I can’t-”

“Rape him?” Ivan stated matter-of-factly.

“Gah. Such an ugly word.” Matt winced. “That’s not what it is. I mean, this is all very consensual, I know. Like… there’s a difference.”

“Sort of. And yeah, that’s probably going to happen. I’m thinking a beating first, some verbal humiliation and then once I’ve got him down and hurting I’ll tie him up.”

Matt chuckled awkwardly and Ivan quirked his head toward the sound. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s just… so clinical. Like you’re setting a scene that everyone involved knows is fucked up but you’re so serious.” Matt shrugged. “I mean, it’s good. You need to be. But it’s pretty weird, right?”

Ivan mirrored his shrug. “I guess. Anyway, once I’ve got him tied up I want to transition to the bench… that’s when I might need you to put hands on him. I want you to do as little as possible, honestly I don’t want to break the scene or tension, but there’s no way I can carry him on my own if I have to.”

“And you might need to?”

“Exactly. It’s highly likely. So, we get him to the bench… here.” He gestured to where he’d marked a chalk line. “On his back so he can watch my face when I cut.” Matt cringed, he was clearly trying to hide it but Ivan caught on quickly. “Just a little bit, nothing deep. I want to use it to be the big breakthrough if the beating doesn’t drop him all the way into subspace. Belly only, thickest areas with a very fine blade.”

“The scalpels?”

Ivan nodded. “They’re safe, clean, and easy to pull away when he gets squirmy.”

“Got it.” Matt sighed, still nodding. “Okay, so after the cutting?”

“While I do that, I need you to come around behind him and put down the big gauze pad. It’ll cover the planned incision area and it’s adhesive so no worries there.”

“That’s smart.”

Ivan grinned. “He’ll be pretty deep then. As soon as you’re out of eyeshot, I’ll roll him over and then get the fire going.”

“The whip?” Matt’s eyes darted back to the table.

“Possibly. If he’s good and deep I might just go flogger. I’m more accurate with it and I’ll be able to keep closer to him.”

“That’s… yeah. That’s good.” Ivan winked and Matt caught it before glancing down again, a blush coloring his cheeks. “Okay. So, then what?”

“A good lashing and if we’re both capable of pushing a little further I’ll drop the whip or whatever and you should smother it right away with the blanket.”

“And then the sex part?” Matt looks up a little, not quite making eye contact but clearly intrigued.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Kind of playing it by ear. I’ve got permission, of course, but I’m going to follow his response. If he’s aroused we’ll see what happens from there.” Ivan chuckled again, watching the slight unease in Matt’s interest. “For example, if he gets hard while I’m hitting him and fucking with his head a bit-”

“Gah, that’s-”

“I might make fun of him for it. Maybe call him a nasty name.”

“Really?” Matt frowned a little. “You’re going to call him a fag, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

Matt shook his head slowly. “I mean, yeah. But that’s the point, isn’t it? Doing and saying things that hurt even when  _ you _ don’t mean it.”

“I need you to know, Matthew. I’m going to say a lot of fucked up things… and I  _ am _ going to hurt him. And yes, there’s a pretty good chance it’s going to  _ feel _ like sexual assault at some point.” He reached out and put a hand tenderly on Matt’s elbow, giving a gentle squeeze. “I know that’s why she tapped out, and if you need to I  _ understand _ .”

“No. I get it.” Matt answered, his voice unexpectedly confident. “I want to be there for him. I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

Ivan’s smile spread wide. “Good. That’s what he needs.”

*

“So pathetic…” Ivan sighs dramatically. “Gonna cry already? Christ, you’re sobbing like a little girl.” He giggles, leaning in close to shunt the blade across the floor to a safe distance before once more grabbing him by the chin and forcing him face to face. “Open your eyes, faggot. I’m talking to you.”

“No…” Taliesin whimpers, trying like hell to fight the shiver that runs through him with every word, Ivan’s voice dripping pure malice in his ear. “Please.”

“Fucking. Look. At. Me.” Letting go of his chin, Ivan slaps him hard across one cheek and then the other with each word, drawing up a flash of pink on already heated skin but forcing Taliesin’s eyes wide open. They’re red and wet, already puffy and dilated with sensory overload, just like he’d expected. The look is rewarded with a brief repose as Ivan uses his teeth to shuck the single glove before putting his fingers around Taliesin’s throat again, squeezing more gently than before but no less menacing. He feels the heady thrum of the man’s pulse racing, confirming every other signal Taliesin is giving off. He’s good and deep, genuinely terrified.

Scrambling, Taliesin manages to get both feet flat on the floor, but the energy to even try to push the other man off of him has seeped out entirely. His body aches and more than anything he feels… helpless. Deliriously helpless and also like his weak premature ejaculation won’t be the last.

“You don’t know what I could do to you.” Ivan leans in, dropping his voice to a whispered purr against the red curve of Taliesin’s ear. “I’ve already made you bleed, do you think I would hesitate to do worse?”

Everything in Taliesin’s brain is on high alert, but the hypoxia dizzies are setting in fast. He manages a half-gasp but no words. In his current state of mind, no… no of course this Ivan wouldn’t hesitate. Then the grip on his throat is gone and he eagerly sucks air, blissfully unaware at the weight shifting off of him and more than one set of arms pulling him off the floor.

Matt allows Ivan to shoulder much of Taliesin’s dead weight, swooping in under a shoulder when Tal’s knees buckle as they lead him several feet to the bench. There’s no words spoken, none needed, as they guide him into position until he’s standing bent back over the black leather. Ivan pushes himself close and gives another nod, sending Matt skittering for the gauze pad.

“Focus!” Ivan shouts, pressing himself tight against Taliesin as he hooks the rope cuffs on the side peg just in case his knees give out again… which he thinks they just might. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, you pathetic fuck.” Smacking him hard with the back of his hand, Ivan gives him a second to come back around as he checks to see the rubber ball clutched tight in his fist.

“Sorry…” Taliesin whines, choking on the lump in his throat again but managing not to sob out loud. “Please… what are-”

“You keep talking.” Ivan takes his chance to force down Taliesin’s jeans and the sticky mess of his shorts. “But you just won’t say the  _ one thing _ I want to hear from you.” When he wraps his hand around the hard shaft of Taliesin’s cock, he’s rewarded with a hollow moan that’s stopped only when the other hand presses quite deliberately just above the cut he made.

“Fuck!” Taliesin whimpers then, fresh tears rolling down his hot cheeks. “Don’t… please don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Ivan teases, giving his cock a single long stroke to draw out beads of precome on his palm. “Don’t figure out how much you fucking love this?” He chuckles, giving another strong stroke. “Don’t tell anyone you came when I beat the shit out of you?” Bringing his leg up between Taliesin’s legs, he makes a point of delivering a strong knee behind his balls, eliciting a dire yelp but also another dribble of arousal.

Taliesin nods, he thinks, but really it’s a loll of his head as Ivan’s fingers caress his fresh little cuts with stinging pain. “I’ll-” He sobs. “I’ll say it.”

“Will you?” Ivan delivers another knee, this time hard enough to slightly lift him up off the bench and then smack him back down. When he takes a half step back, it’s to gesture his chin toward Matt again - Matt, who looks on with clear fear in his eyes - and direct him toward the flogger. He reaches to Taliesin again, seizing his shirt to finish the rip and leave the tatters hanging off his shoulders. “We’ll see.”

It’s time to move fast now. Ivan can see the weakness in Taliesin’s knees, his keening edge just about ready to tip over into being utterly done. He unhooks the cuffs just long enough to roll Taliesin onto his belly, securing the bandage with a sweep of one hand masked with a hard thrust of Ivan’s hips against Taliesin’s ass. “P-pathetic.” Taliesin sobs. “I’m-m-”

“I know.” Ivan murmurs, once more securing him in place. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done with you soon.”

The warmth of Ivan’s body moves away and again Taliesin finds himself letting out a desperate wail, the tears coming on harder than before. His body aches, his sides and belly sore but far worse is the throbbing of his balls. He needs it, he knows, needs to bear the things he  _ deserves _ . It’s the sudden click-click-whoosh of a fireplace lighter that signals just  _ what _ that is.

Ivan lights the flogger at a distance, and then begins the slow and easy swing to keep the flames under control. The kevlar weight is familiar in his hand and while it’s been a good while since he’s had the pleasure of using it on a person, he hasn’t exactly been out of practice since rekindling his affinity for the flame. “You know what’s coming, don’t you?” He asks, mere steps away from his mark. “I bet you can smell it in the air.”

Taliesin’s knees buckle and his weight shifts for only a moment, tugging at his shoulders until he finds them again and pushes more comfortably against the table. Fuel. Leather. Sex. Blood. Sweat. Fire. There isn’t time to fully comprehend it before a wicked sting licks across his skin. At first the fire doesn’t register, only the familiar thudding of the flogger and its knots. Then it comes over him as a wave, hot and tickling his flesh as the fine hairs are singed away.

Ivan brings it back and then down again quickly, not allowing time to ruminate until he’s delivered four hard lashes in an over then under pattern across the thickest part of Taliesin’s shoulders, watching the fire skitter barely over him and leave behind a fine pink tint. It would figure that Taliesin could easily take the knobby tips and thick strands, but it’s exciting to see the fire caress and lick at his skin like a second lover.

He howls when the fifth lash hits, the warmth starts along the stripes and then radiates outward around his sides until even his belly feels as though it’s been kissed by the raw heat. His body trembles and there’s nothing he can do to stop it, only weather another strong smack and whoosh as the thongs barely catch the nape of his neck. “Please..” He whimpers, opening his eyes just enough to see the room spinning before closing them tightly once more. “I can’t-”

“You can.” Ivan growls and drops his arm, stepping a little closer and turning to the side to deliver an even harder snap of the wrist that flicks fire across the softness of Taliesin’s ass. When he cries out, it’s answered with another hard crack that leaves behind a brief flash of burning alcohol and tiny hairs that leaves his partner heaving sobs. “Three more.” Ivan threatens. “Three more and then  _ maybe _ I’ll forgive you for what you did.”

“Yes!” Taliesin whimpers, his hands shaking uncontrollably but still clutching his rubber ball. “I’m sorry. I’m  _ so _ sorry… please…”

Ivan glances up to see Matt standing only a foot or two from Taliesin’s fingers, his eyes nervously darting from the ball to Taliesin’s helpless figure to Ivan and then back again. “One.” He turns the flogger several times, letting the hiss-pop-whoosh of the flames build as he quietly moves to be behind him again, waiting until he sees Taliesin shifting and squirming, uncertain of what’s about to come. Without warning, he brings the flogger down hard on Tal’s right shoulder and his thick body jolts with it, thumping against the heavy bench. “Two.” This one comes quicker than the first, a matched smack of pink that arcs down his left shoulder blade.

Shuddering full bodied, Taliesin reels against the delicious pain. His thoughts are muddled, a dense amalgamation of  _ yes, please, no, yes, oh god yes _ that tumbles from his lips as a panting moan and then loud cry of release as the third strike catches him completely at Ivan’s mercy, not a whack of kevlar strands but a slow drag of flames that licks across his thighs and then up over his ass and finally across his back until Taliesin swears he can smell sizzling meat in the air.

“Three.” Ivan chuckles low and loud, letting the sound fill the room as he casts aside the burning flogger, letting it sputter on the concrete as Matt deftly darts across the room to cover it with the fiberglass blanket and snuff it out. He doesn’t hesitate to approach this time, introducing his palms first along Taliesin’s quaking shoulders and then stroking over the inflamed skin down his back to the delightfully pink skin across his ass. He hadn’t pulled the strength in his strikes and it shows. Taliesin’s skin already bears to soft glow of minor burns but also clear points of bruising where fists and flogger met flesh.

Taliesin whimpers, digging against the bench. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s afraid of Ivan’s touch, or perhaps worse - afraid that touch will stop. His body throbs and it’s taken such a beating that he’s not sure how to even describe any of it. Then, the comparative chill of Ivan’s hands both soothes and smarts, blunt nails rake playfully over tender stripes that still feel like he’s on fire, and a strong palm idly reaches between his legs to cradle and caress his balls. “Can’t-” He grunts, but the sound is eaten by a moan when the hand on his sac suddenly moves to spread open his crack.

“The funny thing…” Ivan muses, taking away the gentle prod and scrape testing of Taliesin’s burns to ensure they’re minor at worst to fetch the small bottle of lube from his pocket, “... about alcohol, I mean… is that it’s so  _ cold _ on your skin. The good stuff is, at least.” Experimentally, he drips the slick water based fluid on Taliesin’s shoulder blade, watching with no attempt to hide his grin from Matthew’s eyes but also making clear that this is merely the power of suggestion at work.

His throat is raw, but Taliesin still finds the power to cry out. “Oh god! Fuck! No!” He doesn’t let go, even as it drips down his back so painfully cold.

Ivan laughs. “Can you imagine…” He draws out the tension then, dripping more down the curve of Taliesin’s back, watching it dribble and snake down to the rise of his ass. “What it would feel like to just… burn?” He finishes his snail trail of lube by letting a very generous gout drip along the crack of Taliesin’s ass to where it clings to his fingers as he begins to stroke over the tight ring of his opening. “A tickle at first…” He drops the bottle and idly caresses the marks on Taliesin’s shoulder - his marks - as the other hand begins the steady push of penetrating him with two long fingers. “And then searing, painful scorching as it licks your flesh like no other lover.”

The unexpected sensation of soft lips and scratchy whiskers on Taliesin’s seared shoulder draws out a gasp and then another strangled sob. It’s so tender… so sweet when every atom of his body is waiting for pleasure of being stretched to become pain, to match his fearful high alert mental state. It doesn’t take long. The fingers stroke deeper into him, deliberately forcing him open wide as the deep voice tickles his ear again. “A single match bringing flame to life, setting it free to eat the fuel provided until it too is  _ inside _ you.” Ivan chuckles and Taliesin is very aware that his cock is throbbing just as hard as his cuts and bruises. “That heat deep inside your very core, devouring you. Immolating everything you think you are.”

Taliesin whimpers audibly and Ivan catches his fingers hesitating on the ball, turning it in his shaking fist but not yet dropping it. Then, he whispers against Taliesin’s ear; “I could burn you.” He moans and then feels Matt close to him, the other man’s hands suddenly opening his belt and pushing down his jeans, speeding toward the conclusion it seems.

Matt murmurs into Ivan’s ear, the first thing he’s said since Tal arrived. “Fuck him. Please. He’s  _ desperate _ .”

He hadn’t anticipated the tone of Matt’s voice, the interestingly sexual overtone. Still, it’s a thought to unpack later. Leaning in, letting Taliesin feel his bare pelvis on his hip, Ivan continues. “It would be easy…”

“No…” Taliesin whimpers, sucking breaths as another tremor takes him.

“Yes.” Ivan answers with a honeyed purr. “Let the fire burn…”

“Please-” When he withdraws his fingers, Taliesin forgets how to speak, how to even breathe. All he can feel is that second of gratefulness to have the touch stopped - not without a little loss too, he can’t help how good it feels to be fingered, it’s biology right? - and then the deep dread filling his belly as the solid girth of Ivan’s cock forces him wider still. He chokes, squeals, and then ends with a shaking sob. “Ahh…”

“Shh…” Ivan murmurs, brushing another kiss on a dark red welt that tastes of alcohol and char. “Just a little more, I think. Watching you suffer has really got me worked up.” He thrusts hard, the meeting of their flesh a brutal smack that drives Taliesin’s aching gut against the leather bench. “You’re a pathetic piece of shit…” He moans low and loud, barely exaggerating just how good it feels to be inside him. “...but you’ve got your uses.” Ivan grunts, letting the tension of the moment drive his hips in erratic rough thrusts. “Not to mention a nice fat ass.” He ends with a drawn hiss, both hands finding Taliesin’s thick hips and digging in as hard as his fingers can manage.

_ I’m meat _ . The thought races through Taliesin’s mind and then takes root as another hard thrust makes him feel like they’re about to topple the bench regardless of how well it’s bolted to the floor. Just flesh, worth no more than a warm punching bag turned fuck hole.  _ Charred fatty meat _ .

As if reading his mind then, Ivan’s kiss becomes a piercing bite. The familiar sensation of pinprick sharp incisors going blunt with pressure makes him cry out in genuine fear. The easily bruised flesh doesn’t break, but damn if Taliesin doesn’t feel like it’s right on the cusp of letting blood. His cock twitches again and this time he feels the wash of futile need well before sticky fluids collect on the surface of the bench mid thrust, his flesh sliding along the leather and smearing his own come on his thighs as Ivan continues using his body. The sound that follows is a weepy and pathetic mournful cry. He knows somewhere deep inside that it’s what was expected of him, but that logic is long gone in the tidal wave of shame that floods his senses.

Ivan bears down the slightest bit harder, letting his tongue linger on the pink skin underneath it as he draws the dark bruise to the surface, marking his prey to not only heighten the intensity but give him a longer lasting reminder than a few shallow cuts. When he finally relents, it’s with a snarling predatory growl. “You like that, don’t you? Being my sweet little piece of flesh?” The animal instinct curling inside him slips out far too easily as Taliesin quivers underneath him, mewling and meek. Not a monster, no; far too controlled to be a monster, but a snarling hungry beast.

Taliesin sniffles, his body little more than a puddle of thoroughly abused meat and his mind curled up in the dark needy victim space. "Yes." He sobs softly. "Yeah."

"Say it." Ivan growls. "Tell me what I want to hear." His hips buckle as he seats his cock deep, letting himself savor the moment before tipping over the edge.

Tal chokes at first, inarticulate and wrung out. Then, he manages those few more weak words. "Pathetic." He sniffs loudly. "P-pathetic. 'M pathetic."

Glancing up again, it takes a few seconds to locate Matthew but they catch eyes where he's crouched down watching Taliesin’s face in what Ivan assumes must be slack bliss. Matt gives a gentle nod and it's all the permission Ivan needs to see it to completion.

*

"Aftercare is going to be vital." Ivan said, finishing a bottled water as he went over the final preparation one last time. "If he taps out, or when it's done he's going to need a lot of love and while I fully plan to be part of it, a lot of it will be on you."

Matt nodded slowly. He understood his role, and knew full well what aftercare would look like. He was used to being the one getting it, listening to Tal and Marisha coo over him and remind him of how  _ loved _ he was and that he was such a good boy and did well no matter what. He knew how it felt to come down and bear the empty coldness, those sad moments of coming back to reality and feeling the limits of his body and spirit.

He could only imagine what it would feel like after being brutalized. 

"You gonna be okay?" Ivan asked, aware of his far away stare.

Matt chuckled. "Even if I wasn't, it's not like I can back out an hour before showtime."

"Of course you can. Any of us can pull the plug any time. We all have to be on the same page if-"

"It's fine." Matt interrupted. "I mean it. Just worried about what comes after."

For a moment Ivan didn't answer, he had to consider both his thoughts on the subject and his audience. "Give him love." He closed the distance between them with uncertain footsteps. "I'll worry about the first aid and practical stuff."

"And you?" Matt asked quietly. "I know you're not a stranger to playing a monster, but this is a lot."

He'd considered it, of course, and it wasn't his first time being the villain. Still, Matt wasn't wrong. As much as he was into the idea as Taliesin was, there was nothing  _ easy _ about what he was going to do. "I'll be fine. A hot bath and a beer and I'll be okay."

The look on Matt's face was clear, he didn't believe that for a second. "Okay." He answered carefully. "Run me through it one more time?"

*

It's hard to tell if time is moving slowly or Taliesin’s body has simply accepted what's happening to him. He trembles, fear or exhaustion or both he doesn't know, and simply allows the moment to carry him. Ivan's thrusts are hard and deep, the grip on his flesh unyielding but increasingly ardent. 

Ivan's riding the tension himself, his own body trapped between desperately wanting to give in and holding back to keep up his facade just a little longer. Snarling, he bites down again, finding a fresh bruise to scrape his teeth across before bearing down at the thickest part of his shoulder. Taliesin’s sobs have died down to a feeble whine but he knows tears are rolling down chubby pink cheeks, collecting at his chin and making his humbling complete. His prey is broken: as choreographed, he's won.

That's the thought that breaks the wall, he's won. He's won and his body pulses as he slams his hips into Taliesin one last time, filling him deep. "Yes…" He growls between gritted teeth, replacing his rough bite with a reverent kiss. "Ah-ha-ha… yes."

Letting out his held breath, Taliesin sobs and wails out a humbled cry. His throat is raw, his body aching, and his emotions feel desperately fragile. Dizzy, trembling, his fingers open and the rubber ball makes a hollow thwonk on the concrete when it drops.

Matt is the first to spring into action, pushing up on his steady feet and pulling free the knot binding Taliesin’s wrists before Ivan can even withdraw and stumble back enough to give him room to work.

“I’m here.” Matt says softly, wrapping an arm over Taliesin’s shoulders as he comes around the bench to hold him fully. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

It takes a moment to focus himself, but Ivan manages to shake himself free enough to step out of his puddle of clothes and locate the aftercare kit he’d brought. By the time he’s collected himself as well as the bottled water, towels, and balm, Matthew has managed to guide Taliesin to the laid out blanket and wrapped another over his exposed body. For another moment, he’s content to watch as Matthew whispers to him and brushes kisses across tear stained cheeks. It’s beautiful, he thinks, the way they can simply sink like that into easy affection after turmoil. When Taliesin laughs, his voice cracks and Matt wipes away fresh wetness before kissing that laughter away. He almost hates to break the moment.

When Ivan clears his throat and holds out the water, Talisin looks up at him with innocent eyes that at first glance seem fearful but in that same second warm with fondness. “C’mere.” Taliesin smiles and reaches for him and Ivan can’t bring himself to consider doing anything but sinking down on the blanket beside him and offering a towel.

“I’m going to check your wounds.” Ivan says in a voice that feels like the polar opposite of the last long minutes. Calm, confident, and soft. “Don’t mind me.” When he reaches to first check the subtly applied bandage, he’s met with Taliesin’s wide palm covering the top of his hand and holding it at one edge.

“It can wait.” He says, glancing first to Matt and then up at Ivan before moving that shaking hand to grasp his wrist and pull it closer.

Ivan looks to Matt, at first not understanding the gesture even as he’s pulled into Taliesin’s embrace, his arms squeezing tight around Ivan’s shoulders. Matt smiles a little more broadly and nods. “It’s okay.” Matt says casually. “You’re not the bad guy.”

“Oh no…” Taliesin murmurs, burying his head in Ivan’s shoulder and brushing small kisses there. “You’re the best bad guy. That was amazing… that was… God. I think I’m possibly dead right now.”

It’s the small chuckle that bubbles up in his throat that breaks Ivan’s subconsciously protective composure. He has to swallow back bile to let it come out naturally and seconds later he realizes that he’s a little misty eyed himself. “It’s fine.” He manages with another awkward laugh. “I’m fine.”

“Thank you.” Taliesin kisses his throat and squeezes as tightly as his tired arms will allow. “I can’t-”

“Don’t.” Ivan answers, finding sweaty hair at the back of Taliesin’s head as he tenderly strokes a palm there.

Shifting closer, Matt’s arms catch Taliesin from behind again, one wrapping around his midsection to rest comfortably between them. The other hand finds Ivan’s bare thigh and rests on the pale skin there. He squeezes and it draws Ivan’s attention to him fully. “It’s okay.” Matt reassures, the depth of his sincerity showing fully on his face.

Letting himself break a little, Ivan laughs again but its not without a hint of a sob. “I know. I know.” When he leans back, Taliesin initially seems hesitant to let his arms go slack but eventually allows him to get a good look. The hand slides from the back of Taliesin’s head to gently cup his cheek and Ivan isn’t surprised when he flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Fuck. That was... that was  _ awesome _ .” Taliesin answers and turns into the warm palm enough to press a kiss on Ivan’s thumb. “You’re amazing.”

A blush warms his cheeks and Ivan reflexively answers; “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

“Beautiful, even.” Matt adds.

It’s clear when Taliesin turns his head to kiss Matt, it’s to stop the praise more than accept affection, but it warms Ivan no less. He adds to the thought; “At the end, I-I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you were crying.”

“God.” Taliesin sighs as the kiss breaks, a coy smile turning his lips. “I haven’t cried like that in- fuck, a long time.”

“It was really hot.” Matt continues, undaunted by the kiss. “I mean… I didn’t want to break your immersion, but part of me kind of wanted to, you know,  _ participate _ .”

“Oh?” Ivan perks up, letting himself get comfortable in the unexpected embrace of Taliesin’s arms. “Oh do tell.”

“No!” Matt squeaks, his cheeks suddenly much more red than before. “I cannot be held responsible for-”

“Spill it, Mercer.” Ivan glares at him playfully. “Did you want to take a turn? Maybe next time a gang bang situation?”

Taliesin squeaks. “Please don’t say that. I can’t- my brain can’t really wrap around-”

“Not that at all!” Matt’s voice creeps upward, obviously shy about the thought. “Fine. I kind of… it’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” Ivan teases, “I can talk to some mutual friends-”

“Fine. I had this idea that maybe it would be fun to jerk off and come on your face.” His cheeks are burning bright red.

“Ok, that’s hot.” Ivan answers.

Taliesin is quick to add; “That would have been  _ great _ . God I love your brain.”

Burying his face in Taliesin’s back, well aware of the heat radiating off it and the layer of fresh bruises and mild singe, Matt mutters a reply. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“Maybe next time.” Ivan answers, letting his gaze linger meaningfully on Taliesin as he leans into Matt. “We’ll see.”


End file.
